


This is a Good Thing

by madwriter223



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Emotional Hurt, Fix-It, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Medical Conditions, but not really, s05e19, very sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 06:17:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2721836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madwriter223/pseuds/madwriter223
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Coda to <em>Hammer of the Gods</em>] Gabriel hadn't died that night. Though maybe he should have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is a Good Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Written years ago, one of the saddest fics I've written. It used to be titled 'It is as It is', but I changed the details a bit and the title no longer fit.  
> Enjoy.

When Sammy was four, he'd had a Kermit doll. The kid loved the damn thing. Dragged it everywhere, put it in a plastic bag in case of rain when they went out, gave it its own plate at meals, slept with it wedged under his chin. The whole shebang.

He'd loved that ugly thing. Literally to bits, eventually. When its third limb fell off, Dad had decided they had no choice but to throw it away. He'd said it was too old to be fixed, that even if they sew it back together, it'll just fall apart again. That soon the material on the torso would go as well, and they'd have fluffy Kermit-guts all over the place.

Sammy had screamed for Dad not to take the doll away. Hidden it from everyone, taped its limbs back on, wouldn't let it out of his arms. Eventually though, Dean managed to convince Sammy to let Kermit go.

Dean had managed to at least talk Dad into having a mock burial. You know, treat it like a hunter – wrap the body in a shawl then salt and burn it on a funeral pyre. He'd thought it would be easier for Sammy that way. Proper like and all.

Sammy had still raged at them for it. Cried for hours, yelled, threw stuff. He 'hated' Dad for two solid weeks, which was a feat for a four-year-old.

Sammy never did deal well with the death of a loved one.

This? This was a lot like that.

*~*

Castiel was kneeling in the front seat, turned towards the back of the car, staring worriedly. He wouldn't sit normally no matter how many times Dean told him to, but he couldn't blame the dude. Hell, he couldn't help glancing in the rear-view mirror every other second himself.

Sammy was stretched out across the back, shoulders and knees pressed against the side doors. Across his torso lay Gabriel – curled into a foetal position, eyes blank as they stared sightlessly forward. One of Sammy's hands was curled around his throat, the other held the ex-Trickster's wrists in a loose grasp.

Making sure his pulse was there. Making sure it was steady.

Dean wasn't sure it was necessary. Gabriel got doped up on so much sedatives at the hospital that he probably couldn't even think straight, let alone stress himself out.

Then again, thinking was probably the last thing he should be doing.

/ _“To tell you the truth, I'm amazed he's survived this long._ /

Castiel had reappeared a few hours after they got out of that blasted motel. At the news that his brother was dead, he'd simply cocked his head to the side and told them no. That Castiel could feel him.

/ _“He'll need constant supervision. Constant help, and I'm shocked no one before thought to put him on proper medication._ /

That he was still alive.

/ _“He'll need to take it regularly, possibly for the rest of his life.”_ /

They'd found him in a hospital. Hooked to tubes and machines. The fact that there were no needles or IVs on him should have been a hint to what'd happened, to what had been done to him.

The doctor had to be the one to tell them everything.

*~*

Sam lay Gabriel gently in the middle of the bed and covered him with a blanket. Then another blanket. Then he sat next to him and opened his laptop to research Gabriel's condition.

/ _“It's called haemophilia._ /

Cause apparently, Luci hadn't killed him brother. He'd ripped out his Grace and turned him into a human.

/ _“And I'm very sorry to say, it's an extreme case.”_ /

A very sick human.

*~*

The doctor said it was a seriously fucked up version of haemophilia. That yes, his blood doesn't clot. That even a small cut could be dangerous to his health. But apparently, any change in his blood pressure was a threat too.

/ _“We're not sure why exactly, but any time his blood pressure rises, his blood vessels burst. We think the weakness in tissue might've been caused by a bad diet, but the rest of him seems healthy. We just can't understand it.”_ /

It just figures Lucifer was a sick fuck even to his own family.

*~*

No stress. No excitement. No surprises.

No sweets. No fatty foods. No artificial produces.

No alcohol. No coffee. No sweetened drinks.

Don't let him exert himself. Don't let him to get too hot or too cold. Make sure he rests a lot. Make sure he takes his pills.

Keep. Him. Calm.

Dean knew he was a bastard for thinking this, but honestly? It would've been better if Gabriel had died that night.

*~*

Sam wouldn't leave Gabriel's side. They slept in one bed, showered together in the morning, Sam would always have at least one hand on the ex-angel, often-times he'd just stop whatever he was doing to press chaste kisses all over the dude's face.

Normally, Dean would've been pissed as Hell at his little brother being with that douche. However, he couldn't ignore the reasons behind the actions. They slept together so that Sam could make sure Gabriel wouldn't have a bad dream and stress himself enough to have internal bleeding. They showered together after Sam fed Gabriel his morning portion of pills, and the ex-angel was so groggy he could barely stand by himself. Sam kept touching Gabriel to make sure the guy was calm and that he hadn't had a rational thought that would lead him to step into incoming traffic. He kissed him often, but they could never again have sex.

Then there was the other stuff: Sam insisted on Gabriel never being alone, not even for a moment. He viciously threw away all the candy Castiel brought to 'make his brother feel better'. Sam practically had to force the pills down Gabriel's throat. Sam spent each free moment researching possible cures for haemophilia. Whenever he thought the ex-angel was getting tired, Sam carried Gabriel in his arms, like a small kid. Gabriel usually struggled in his grasp, sluggishly, weakly but always subjected to the inevitable. 

Gabriel didn't smile any more. Didn't play pranks, didn't insult Dean, didn't tease Cas. Barely even talked. Just sat or lay on the bed and stared blankly into space. Sometimes blinking, sometimes not for so long his eyes would tear up. And each time Dean had stumbled onto Gabriel crying silently to himself, his tears were tinted red with blood.

It really would've been better if Gabriel had died that night.

*~*

Okay, so he probably wasn't the best person to do this, but he really couldn't any more Couldn't see Cas staring at his brother and looking like Christmas had been cancelled. Couldn't take Sam running himself rugged trying to find a cure, a solution, _anything_. Couldn't take seeing Gabriel just stare off into space, drugged up and looking like he wanted to die. Which he probably did, come to think of it.

Hell, he didn't even like the guy, but no one deserved this. No matter what they'd done.

“Sammy?”

“It's Sam.” It was said absent-mindedly. Sam was too busy trying to get Gabriel to open his mouth for the evening pills to pay much attention to Dean.

“Fine.” Dean kept his tone firm. “Sam, we gotta talk.”

“About?” The little bitch didn't even look up.

Dean opened his mouth then shook his head. “Look, not here, okay?”

“Dean, in case you haven't noticed, I'm kinda busy.” Finally he got a look. Or a glare, whatever.

“Just get your girly ass outside.” Yeah, that was a great start.

“I can't just lea-” Sam lifted a glass to Gabriel's lips so that he could wash down his pills.

“I will watch Gabriel.” Castiel, bless his ass, offered, standing up from his chair.

“But-” Sam narrowed his eyes and Dean lay a hand on his shoulder.

“Sam. C'mon, man.”

His brother pursed his lips, but finally nodded. “...fine. But no sweets.” He pointed a stern finger at Castiel, and the angel nodded.

“No sweets, Sam.” He agreed and sat down next to Gabriel. The ex-trickster kinda sagged towards him and ended up slumped against Cas's side.

Sam nodded then followed Dean outside. He kept glancing over his shoulder, though, Dean didn't know what for. It wasn't like Gabriel would be running away through the window any time soon.

“Okay, what did you want to talk about?” Sam asked once they were standing in front of the motel.

Dean rubbed at his mouth and took a deep breath. “About Gabriel.”

“What about him?” Sam turned slightly towards the closed door to their room, twisting his head like he could see through the wood.

Dean felt slightly sick. “Sam... this ain't right.”

He got a contemplative look, which quickly morphed into suspicion. “I'm doing what I can, Dean.”

“I know that. Fuck, Sam, it's not like I'm blind. I see all the shit you do for him. But...” He paused and rolled his head backwards for a moment. “Sam. This ain't right.”

“You already said that.” Sam muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

Dean took another deep breath. “I'm talking about the way you treat him.”

That got him a scowl. “I'm following doctor's orders.”

Yeah, he was, to the very last letter. But that wasn't the point. “Sam. Sam, this... maybe we should think about... about what _Gabriel_ wants.”

Sam's nostrils flared in anger and his face turned red in anger. “Oh, that's rich, coming from you.”

Dean blinked in confusion, but Sam wasn't done.

“You're telling me to let him die?! To let him kill himself?!”

“Sam, that's not what I'm saying.” Dean held up his hands, keeping his voice calm. Sam huffed and took half a step back and towards the door.

“I always knew you hated his guts, but I never thought you despised him this much.”

This conversation has officially left the fucking road. “Sam-”

“Admit it, you've always hated him!”

Ah, fuck it. “Yeah, I fucking did! He was a fucking douche bag, a dick, a Trickster! He killed me a hundred times, the fucker!”

Sam had that mad glint in his eyes. You know, the one that makes him look like he was gonna traumatize someone for life in a moment. “So admit it! You just want him to die and have him out of our lives!”

Not the fucking point! “I want him to fucking _live_!”

“He _is_ alive!”

“This isn't a life, Sammy!” Dean screamed at him. They were standing nearly nose to nose now. “This is him being like that fucking Kermit doll of yours! Duct tape won't help _him_ , Sammy!”

That got him a confused look. “What are you talking about?” Awesome, the little bitch forgot about that stupid doll.

“...nothing. Nothing.” A deep breath. “Sammy. Just think about it. Do you really think Gabriel wants to live like this?”

The anger died from his brother's eyes, despair taking its place. “I can't let him die, Dean. Don't ask me to do that.”

Dean had always been weak to his little brother's pain. “...all right. I won't. But please. Just- just think about it, okay? That's all I ask.”

“I can't, Dean.” Sam shook his head slowly, pained eyes burning holes straight into his brother's soul. “I can't.”

Dean stayed where he was, long after Sam had gone back inside. He stayed and stared into the sky, cursing everybody: Lucifer, Gabriel, Sammy, himself, God, all the dick angels.

This just wasn't fucking fair.

*~*

They hadn't mentioned the conversation since. Well, okay, Dean sometimes tried to get Sam to back off, but it never resulted in much beyond a pointed look or a mumbled curse. It didn't seem fair Sam was making Gabriel live through this mock-life just because he couldn't let him go. And yeah, Dean was being a hypocrite for thinking that, but seriously.

One day, he almost thought he had gotten through to his brother.

“Gabriel?” Sam murmured as he leaned over the ex-angel. He had the pills in his hand, but for once he wasn't trying to slip them past Gabriel's lips. “Are you happy? Or at least okay with this?”

Gabriel stared at him for a long moment then gave a tiny smile. The first smile in fucking ever from him, and Dean cursed it for being so fucking _sad_.

Then Gabriel shook his head slowly, and Sam drew in a tight breath.

Dean had thought maybe this was it. Maybe with this Sammy will understand.

He didn't.

“It's okay. That's okay. It's just temporary, you'll see. I'll find a way to fix you, don't worry about it, okay? Here, take your medicine.”

Dean wondered who Sam was bullshitting. Gabriel or himself.

*~*

And of course it would end like this. Of course it fucking would, lady Luck was just a bitch like that.

One fucking flat tire. One stupid flat tire, and Dean had called Sam out of the motel room to help him change it. Sam had come, cause Hell. It was the middle of the day, and the room Gabriel was sleeping in was salted like a mofo.

He just couldn't figure out how the fucking demon got inside. But get inside it did. And it took Gabriel.

Lady Luck, there was no other bitch like you.

*~*

They did eventually find him. Hanged up in an empty warehouse, cut up, bruised and dangling above a literal pool of his own blood.

He wasn't breathing.

No amount of CPR, no amount of praying and begging, no nothing they did got him to breath again.  
Fuck, he had already been cold when they got there.

Dean just hoped he bled out before the demons got serious with the torture.

*~*

Sam sat on the bed, cradling Gabriel's bloody body in his lap. Every other second, a sob would make its way out of his throat, and Dean wanted to hunt down those fucking bastards that did this, and use everything Alistair taught him on them.

It just wasn't fucking fair.

Castiel stared at his brother's body, his hands (still covered in blood from when he helped get Gabriel down) clenched into fists. They were shaking. After long moments, the angel took a deep breath and said something Dean wanted to punch him for.

“This is a good thing.”

Sam's head snapped up, his face smudged with the blood still covering Gabriel's... everywhere, it was fucking everywhere. 

Fuck.

“Screw you.” Sam hissed, his eyes wild again. “ _ **Fuck** you_!!”

Castiel just looked at him for a short moment with a somber look then walked closer, crouching in front of him.

“ _'And they shall suffer for their beliefs. They shall die for them, thus becoming known as martyrs. By this their souls shall be blessed and they shall sit by the Almighty Father in his Heaven'._ Sam. This is a good thing.”

“How can you fucking say that?!” A disbelieving, pain-filled snort. “You're happy he's _dead_?!”

Castiel looked at Gabriel, and his expression softened. “When his Grace was ripped away, and he was turned into a human, he essentially became a Fallen Angel. And Fallen Angels do not go to Heaven upon their deaths.” He gently petted a hand through Gabriel's hair. “But martyrs do. No matter what, a martyr who died for his beliefs earns the right to have the Father smile upon them.”

Fresh tears were trailing down Sam's cheeks and dripping onto Gabriel's face, mixing with his blood. “But he didn't die for his beliefs. He died because I was stupid enough to leave him alone.”

Cas didn't stop petting Gabriel's hair. His voice was quiet when he replied. “A martyr's destiny is to suffer greatly then to die. It matters not how. All that matters is that Gabriel didn't have to face Lucifer. He could've stayed hidden and let you two be sacrificed. But he chose humanity. He chose you. He suffered for that. He suffered for you, Sam.” Cas gave him a soul-wrenching look. “He died for _you_.”

No one spoke after that. The only sound was Sam's tear-filled breaths shuddering out of him and into Gabriel's hair.

Dean stared at his heartbroken little brother, then stood up and made his way to the bathroom. He wet a clean towel and came back to stand with their little broken-up group.

He just couldn't stand seeing him like this.

So he knelt on the floor and started to gently clean the blood off of Gabriel's slack face.

This is a good thing, his ass. But what could you do?


End file.
